


there's no math in cunnilingus

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alissa and Jeremy have a night out with Audrey Hepburn. Jeremy gets to show off his tongue skills. (This is friendship-fic with friends-sex. No romance.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no math in cunnilingus

Audrey Hepburn and sherry wine do not mix. This is a fact Alissa has found to be true after many a movie night that saw her doing incredibly stupid things she would or would not regret in the mornings depending on the outcome of events. Or memory thereof.

Audrey Hepburn, sherry and Jeremy Abbott is an experience she would not miss for the world, especially once he starts his best Holly Golightly imitation, not after making her promise _on her dead mother's body_ that she will never, ever tell anyone about this. He even has a cigarette holder, rescued from between the cushions of his couch. Alissa half wants to jump out of the window. The other half of her wants to know desperately _how_. It's the alcohol speaking. Always the damn alcohol.

They snuggle and get teary-eyed together at the end of The Children's Hour, and they finish off with My Fair Lady, because every Audrey Hepburn movie night has to end with My Fair Lady, no matter that it's not really her singing. "It's imagining that she's singing," Jeremy tells her somberly. "It's all that matters."

Alissa snickers into her hand and licks a drop of the sherry off his fingers when it threatens to spill onto his couch after he downs another glass. Bottom of a glass, really. There's not really enough left for there to be a whole glass. Maybe. "This stuff is _foul_ ," she says, and cannot stop giggling when he sticks out his tongue at her and says, "My house, my rules."

Not that it's his so much as theirs. His bathroom's filled with her stuff. The invasion is proceeding smoothly. Next thing he knows, she'll have usurped his matching piglet bed linen and imported her own, which has Spidey. She's not even going to argue why that's cooler. The answer is self-evident.

"We should have brought drugs," Jeremy sighs and accidentally touches her boobs while trying to find a good position to lie back against her. Not that he notices, but it sort of turns her on, and now she wants sex. Alcohol. She eyes the almost-empty bottle. More alcohol would be bad. But sort of good. "Give me," she demands, holding her hand out and pointing to his glass. "More."

"More?" Jeremy turns a bit. "I know I've no right to tell you want to do, obviously, I'm not like, your brother, not that I'm, uh, I'm not trying to be or anything. But. But seeing as you've drunken like, half the bottle, or more - did you drink more than me, is that - how did you - anyway. So I was wondering if you maybe don't think you've had enough."

Alissa raises her eyebrows at him and points harder. He gets the point, ducking his head with a sheepish grin. "I swear," she says after sipping up the rest of the liquid. "Sometimes, I wonder how God got you so _wrong_." Jeremy hits her thigh, so she adds, because that did sound sort of mean, "So wrong that it's better than _right_. Right?"

Jeremy giggles. "I want sex."

"Yeah." She sighs. "You should have brought drugs. Then we wouldn't be drunk and horny and next time, Abbott, next time we are so inviting Charlie and Meryl to this thing. I think Meryl hates Audrey Hepburn."

"Good," Jeremy grins. "It'll only make her want sex more."

Alissa leans down and kisses him. Being friends rocks. "You're good with your oral, right?"

Jeremy blinks, licks his bottom lip and tilts his head. He seems to suddenly notice that he's sitting between her legs, not that it bothers him. He just rubs back against her and elbows her boobs. Which is not-good touching. "I've got _skillzzzz_ ," he tells her in a whisper, like it's a secret.

"Ooooh, show me."

Jeremy blinks. "What. Wait. I - are we drunk enough for that?"

"Whole bottle of sherry. Drunk enough for me." Alissa pushes at his shoulders. When she sees his wide-eyed stare, she starts giggling. "Oh, seriously? You've never with a girl? How did I not know this?"

"I did. Like. How do you think I found out I prefer guys?" He ducks his head and rubs his ear. "Aside from the whole thing where I'm a figure skater."

It sets them both off, even though it's only a little bit funny. She's strangely not-nervous, like, at all, and it must be the booze, because there's a pleasantly rushing sensation past her ears, numbing her brain and for once, she can't overthink things too much. Also, beside the fact where it's all the damn alcohol's fault, it's Jeremy. It's like - doing this is her gift to the planet. To the brotherhood of the gay. Whatever. They'll think more about it in the morning.

Right now, she wants him to show her his oral skills. It helps that it's only a little bit awkward, the way sex tends to be with anyone, and it's less awkward because, hey, worst case scenario, he'll completely freak out and she'll have to sooth him with gay porn. It's win-win, really.

The thought makes her snort, and he helps her get her panties off, because her hands have no fine motorskills anymore. She sort of hopes his tongue hasn't lost all of that. The only thing worse than no sex is boring sex.

"No laughing," Jeremy tells her sternly. "This is serious business."

"Oh, really," Alissa cracks up. "I _really_ don't want your sex life."

"I have lots of silly sex." Jeremy shoves her thighs apart a bit harder than needed, his hands running up and down the soft skin, against the line of little hairs, like he's enjoying that. "Shut up."

"Who with?" she teases.

Jeremy gives her a threatening look, corners of his mouth curling up. "Are you going to talk all through this?"

"Not if you make it good."

"High stakes. High stakes indeed."

Alissa catches his lips in another kiss and gives him some tongue before pushing his head down between her thighs. She can talk. He's got better things to do with his tongue.

The thing is, and this makes her fall backwards against the armrest, peels of laughter escaping, he goes down on her like he'd swallow a cock, open mouth and sucking and it's _the funniest thing she's seen in her life_ , aside from the fact that it makes her gasp at the sudden contact and buck her hips up. The boys must love him for the enthusiasm; she's sort-of got the wrong parts, and it makes her grow warm and tingly to imagine what he's like when he's _really_ turned on by someone.

After a few seconds of just moving his mouth around, like he's looking for something (bites her lip not to go with the Lost pun because oh, he'd just love this) - he touches his tongue to her clit, and that, yes, that, finally, she was sort of waiting for that, and she buries her hands in his hair and pulls him down harder, telling him, "You can - more, yes, c'mon, just press down - oh. Exactly."

Her reaction makes him bolder, as does the fact that she's getting wetter, maybe, though he doesn't move down from her clit. It's fine with her, he's got tongue-skills, no lie. He does add fingers, after a while, once she's moving her hips in rhythm to his tongue pushing down on her. His thumb's rubbing a bit, testing, maybe more careful than she likes, and she tells him he can go harder, that she needs a little - bit - more - and he's good with following orders, because there, oh, that's - that was sort of brilliant - and then she's coming, pressing her own fingers down on her clit _hard_ when he pulls off and away, not forcing him to stay, riding the orgasm out by herself, eyes closed, head thrown back.

Everything feels sort of languid afterwards, and like the world's blurred, which is nice. Definitely very nice, and she smiles up at him when he gives her a hesitant, lop-sided grin, lips wet.

"C'mon," she says, makes space beside her, and they're tiny enough to fit both, side-by-side, even though he threatens to fall off when she palms him through his pants. "D'you want -"

"Nah," he says, shaking his head. He's not really hard, she can feel it. Maybe just a little bit. "We can go to bed, though."

"Tired?" She rubs at his cheek. He smells like her, like sex.

"You want should I treat you like a lady?" he grins, pecking her mouth.

Alissa rolls her eyes. She does give a little shriek when he hops up, though, scooping her up on his arms and carrying her towards his bedroom. She will never admit to it, of course, and trade against the Holly-imitation from before should it come up.

He doesn't let her go until she's on the bed. He chucks away his jeans - his coordination is off and it takes him three times as long as usually, which is funny beyond belief seeing as he had no problem coordinating his tongue - and then he crawls into the bed beside her and cuddles close.

She falls asleep the moment the sheets stop rustling.

 

~*~

 

She wakes up at seven-thirty, which is far too early; but she has to pee, and also, she needs a shower. Jeremy's not in bed. Possibly, she grins to herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth, he ran out to fuck a boy to ascertain his homosexuality.

Instead, when she steps into the kitchen, there's breakfast. He's made a shitload of pancakes, with already-melting ice-cream on hers, and strawberries. It's the way she loves them best.

They eat in silence for a little while, chewing, sipping water, then she says, "I'll need to go the gym to work this off in a bit."

He looks up, catches her gaze, and calm as the day says, "Oh. I think we took care of that with the sex."

His foot bumps against her ankle under the table. They start laughing at the same time.

 

~*~


End file.
